


Brent, Ashley, and the Scotsman

by ashihime (snuberr)



Category: Jashi - Fandom, Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Adventure, Amnesia, Breshley, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Ghostly Aggravation, Jackie the Blade, Romance, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 10,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuberr/pseuds/ashihime
Summary: The Scotsman—now a ghost—comes across a familiar face. Unfortunately, it's deja vu all over again when he realizes his dear friend is missing both his brain and magic sword. This naturally calls for another search, similar to that one adventure they had decades ago. Only this time, it won't just be the two of them. Because despite losing his identity and combat skills, his friend somehow managed to find himself a girlfriend!
Relationships: Ashi/Samurai Jack
Comments: 26
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story since...forever. And I've only recently finished it. I'll probably update AT LEAST once a week, depending on my schedule. But don't worry. This story is already complete. It's done. Fin. Owari. Wakas. But I thought it better to post in smaller increments rather than one giant wall of text. 
> 
> This story is obviously based on that two-parter episode in the classic series, where Jack loses his memory and becomes this entirely different person. I recommend watching it if you already haven't. 
> 
> Hope you get a kick out of it, and as always, any errors you find will be rectified at a later time.

The first thing the Scotsman thought of when he saw his dear friend after Maker knows how long was to tackle him in a big bear hug, which unfortunately could not be done, him being, well, _dead_ and all. But that did not matter. The Scotsman had finally found him!

“Laddie!” He cried out jovially. “It’s great to see ye! How fortuitous!”

His dear friend eyed him with a mixture of horror and shock, understandable, considering the Scotsman was now a floating blue spirit and all. 

“Ye still look as young as me!” The ghost laughed. “Ye of course have it much better. Ah, what I’d give to have me some scotch…”

The lad still did not say anything, not even responding to the playful barbs and insults. If the Scotsman were still physically alive, he would have slapped the bumbling fool’s head clear off for the lackluster, or rather, lack of greeting. 

Finally, his friend’s eyes widened in recognition, a smile on his face.

“Oh riiiight. I remember you!” 

…

…

“Err...could ye say that again, lad?” His eyes squinted, confirming that, _yes_ , this was in fact his friend. He may have lost the grandma robe and updated his look but this was still indeed Samurai Jack. His ears must be deceiving him though. His friend definitely did not sound like that.

Though there was something oddly familiar about… 

“You’re the weird guy I met in my old job! On the boat…”

_Oh no._


	2. Chapter 2

“Umm…” The Scotsman blinked, trying to process everything that had just been said. “Ye’re gonnae halfta run it by me again.”

Jack, err,  _ Brent _ sighed. “Why is it like hard for you to understand?” He then gasped in alarm at his own words. “I am totally sorry. That was totally rude of me to speak ill to the dead like that.” 

The Scotsman rolled his eyes. “Look lad! I dinnae know how but ye did it...but ye gone and done it again!” he pushed his face close to Brent’s frightened one, his next words brimming with determination. “We’re gonnae hafta find yer missing brain AND sword, just like we did last time!”

The Scotsman’s mission of finding more reinforcements would have to wait, especially when the key player to their liberation was right here. 

Brent stepped back, throwing his hands in the air. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m not gonna go on another eat, slay, love adventure with you! I’m working a double shift!” He gestured to the red nautical-themed uniform he was wearing, identical from the first sorry misadventure they had decades ago. Only this time, the lad was serving beverages inside a dingy restaurant. 

“And besides…” Brent hesitated, color staining his cheeks before finishing with a goofy smile. “I can’t like just leave my girlfriend behind.”

…

…

“ _ YER WHAT?! _ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To have an idea of what ”Ashley” sounds like, look up Britney Britney from Fairly Oddparents, a character who’s also voiced by Tara Strong.

“Honey bunny,” Brent lightly pushed a young woman forward, “this is like my friend, _I guess_ . The _uh_ Scotsman. Scotsman, this beautiful angel is my baby, Ashley.” He made a grand sweeping gesture of his arms to go along his introduction. 

The Scotsman eyed the newcomer. Ashley, if that was even her real name, was a dainty little thing, smaller than his own arm even. And her dress...it sure was... _something_. She looked like someone had baked her inside a yellow multi-tiered cake and was struggling to get out of ever since.

Ashley smiled widely at the ghost, her short black pigtails bobbing excitedly.

“Oh hiya! It’s like totally cool meeting you. I’ve never like met a ghost before…an _armed_ one at that.” 

The Scotsman was taken aback by the sugary sweet tone of her voice. Listening to it could raise one’s blood sugar. It also took him a second to realize she had made a funny reference to the prosthetic gun for his missing leg. 

“Err same here...I've never met a bonnie lass with such…voluminous skirts...before.”

“Thank you!” She said, spinning on her chunky heels to give her frothy skirts a twirl. “I always wanna look good for my Brentypoo.”

“Aw munchkin.” Brent sighed, a dumb smile on his face. “You look great in like everything.” 

Ashley batted her eyelashes at him, taking hold of his hands. “Aw you’re the absolute sweetest muffin bread.” She tiptoed up to him, pushing her face expectantly to his.

Brent leaned down until their noses touched, nuzzling them together. “That’s cause I heart you, my candy cane. Kiss kiss.”

Just before their lips could meet, the Scotsman boomed in between them. “WHAT?! NO! I forbid any lip-lock!” He motioned Brent aside, away from Ashley’s earshot. “LADDIE. Listen, we’ve gotta find yer brain back. Ye dinnae ken this lass! What happens when ye ken who ye are again? Aye...it’s gonna be messier than a greased pig in a hog-tossing tournament in July.” 

Brent stared back at his friend, insulted. “Hey! I do know Ashley!” He declared, crossing his arms with a pout. “We’ve been dating for two weeks already. She’s my everything.”

The Scotsman rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. Sounds like a reasonably well-paced relationship.”

“You wouldn’t understand our love. Like, she loves and accepts me for who I am, even when I was still a caveman.”

“Caveman?”

“Oh yeah,” said Brent, “the night I met her, I was like all messed up. I really don’t remember anything before that. I _think_ I was in some weird pre-halloween g-rave-yard festival.” His face scrunched up, trying to recapture the details in his head. “I might have seen some like green guys dressed as creepy warriors or whatever. I was wearing _eugh_ , a gross loincloth thing and had this beard, and like not even the cool hipster kind.” 

“And? What else?”

Once again, Brent’s face took on a lovesick expression. “Ashley found me. She was so adorable. In her rad leaf dress, calling me Jack, trying to flirt.”

“She called ye _Jack_?” So they must know each other after all. 

“Yeah just like you. Thought I was that samurai.” He cast a dazed smile at Ashley’s direction, who wiggled her fingers back at him. “Can you believe it? She was trying to be cute, finding an excuse to talk to me.”

The Scotsman seriously doubted it but kept it to himself. 

“What happened next, lad?”

“Well she beat up those weird ghostly guys and then like wanted to take me somewhere, saying I wasn’t myself. That’s when this like giant radical plant monster sprouted out and latched onto her head.”

The Scotsman’s eyes widened.

“A plant monster?”

“It was all purple and veiny, real gross.When it let go, I grabbed her and ran. Ashley was totally like out of it for a while but when she came to, she looked at me and said I was like totally cute. The rest is history…”


	4. Chapter 4

The Scotsman was determined to learn more about this “history” Brent spoke of, as well as confirming for himself his suspicions of this so-called “radical” plant monster. The young lad was reluctant of course but Ashley was enthused by the idea. 

“Going back to the place where we first met? Sounds so romantic, cookie crumb!”

“Oh uh...well, whatever you say, my caramel pop.”

The Scotsman had been on the fence about bringing the young lass with them but, seeing the effect she had on Brent, realized it would make their travels a lot easier if she tagged along. It would also lessen the chances of Brent trying to run away, and being a ghost with no physical influence, he could not just haul him over his shoulder and into his scabbard like before. 

This was for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

This was a mistake. 

They had been travelling half a day’s worth to their destination, and the Scotsman was already wishing they’d stumble upon a priest or monk to throw salt or whatever holy shenanigan to exorcise his spirit and grant deliverance. _Anything_ to end his misery from the torture that was his travelling party. 

“...Well I love you.”

“Ah, but I love you more.”

“...No, I love you more.”

“No, I love you the most!” 

“Tee hee, no I”—

“WILL YE TWO SHUT IT?!”

He had been keeping an eye on them, playing chaperone, hovering over them like a kite as he followed their pace.They were going over a grassy hill. Ashley wanted to linger on a spot for a picnic but the Scotsman vetoed on that. Brent looked up to the ghost in annoyance.

“Like take a chill pill man! Like what’s your hurry?”

“Oh I dunno...maybe I’m just TRYING TO FIND YER LOST BRAINS!”

“Jam pudding!”

The men turned their attention to Ashley, with the Scotsman wondering where on Aku’s infested earth could she have possibly found such a confectionary dessert, until he soberly realized it was just another pet name for his sans-brain friend. 

Brent immediately darted over to her. “Yes, my creme brulee?”

Ashley pointed to the scenic hillside view before them, “Wouldn’t this be a great place to take a photo together?” 

“Anywhere is a great place...when you’re there, my cream puff.”

“Oh Brent!”

“My Ashley!”

“WILL YE JUST TAKE THE DAMN PICTURE SO WE CAN MOVE ON ALREADY!”

At that, both whipped something out of their pockets. If there was one thing Brent had over his samurai counterpart, it was the knowledge and convenience of a cellphone. The two huddled close together, so close that the Scotsman would not be surprised if they had managed to fuse together. 

“Hey dude,” Brent extended his phone towards the Scotsman, “would you mind taking the shot?”

…

…

“I’m _dead_.”


	6. Chapter 6

Forty filtered photos on akustagram later, they resumed their trek until a sudden downpour broke over them. It was nothing for the Scotsman, the rain passing through his ghostly body, but the same could not be said for his mortal friends. 

Brent was uselessly trying to shield his hair with his hands, whining about not bringing any styling gel. The Scotsman led them to an area with trees and foliage to prevent them from getting any more soaked. As the two lovers took cover under a low branch, the Scotsman drifted in front of them, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

“I dinnae suppose ye got a tent in yer petticoats, do ye now lassie?” He said to Ashley with a hearty cackle. 


	7. Chapter 7

_ She did. _

If that was not unbelievable enough, she also produced two rolls of sleeping bag, a canteen, prepacked food, matchsticks, and a small lamplight. The Scotsman was dumbfounded.

“HOW?”

“It always helps to be prepared~” Ashley sang, unfurling her sleeping bag beside Brent’s. 

“That didnae answer— _ oh forget it! _ Ye two get some shut-eye while I take watch outside.” Not like ghosts needed sleep anyway.  


“And remember!” The Scotsman was quick to add before phasing himself back out into the rain. “There will be no smooching in me absence!”


	8. Chapter 8

The Scotsman patrolled the surrounding area, drifting over trees and rain clouds, but not straying too far from camp. Even as the rain cleared up and there were no signs of posing threats, he still floated around. Time spent flying solo was less time spent with two obnoxious baby-talking morons after all. 

But eventually, he knew he had to go back. 

They surely had to be sleeping by now. 


	9. Chapter 9

Oh, they were  _ sleeping _ all right. 

The Scotsman was not certain if his scream was out of anger or horror when he returned inside the tent. Perhaps both. He was, however,  _ certain _ of what they were engaged in. He did not have an army of daughters for nothing.

“YE FILTHY ANIMALS!”


	10. Chapter 10

The Scotsman mock-sat on a fallen tree near the tent, lost in a daze, wondering what horrible deed he had done in his life to warrant having to witness...what he had witnessed. Sure, he had done a lot of questionable things he was not proud (and proud) of and seen things that could make a person’s insides churn. 

But this…

He slapped his hands over his eyes in despair, memories of his dear old pajama-wearing and basket-headed friend cropping up in his mind. The most noble and selfless soul he had ever come to know. Not to mention,  _chaste_ .

“Oh laddie,” he sniffed, “where are  _ye?_ ”

Brent stumbled out of the tent, looping his belt around his pants. 

“Hey dude,” He frowned at the ghost, “Could you like maybe knock next time?”

The Scotsman shot him a baneful glare. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Isn’t it such a beautiful day?” chirped Ashley as she stirred some porridge in a pot. She turned to the Scotsman, still beaming. “Would you like a bowl?”

The ghost blinked at her. “It’s um fine, lassie. I dinnae need it.”

“Nonsense!” She tutted, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You’ll need the energy.”

The Scotsman sighed in exasperation with a deadpan expression. “I literally dinnae need it. I’m _dead._ ”

Brent flopped down on the fallen tree beside the ghost, handing Ashley an empty bowl. 

“I’ll have some, my macaron. Your cooking is the greatest.” 

Surely this whole ghost thing had minor corporeal factors because the Scotsman wanted to gag. Ashley filled her boyfriend’s bowl with a large helping, giggling happily. “Oh apple tart, you always say that.”

Brent shoveled into his breakfast with a grin. “And you know it’s true. It’s delicious…” then, his voice dropped as he added with a half-lidded gaze, “...just like the cook.”

“PLEASE.” The Scotsman pleaded at both of them. “It’s too early for this. _Stop_.”

After breakfast, the Scotsman sought a private audience with Brent because _obviously_ , more ground rules needed to be established. Meaty ghost fists on hips, the Scotsman glowered down at Brent, switching to a more parental role.

“From here on out, there will be no more foolin’ around,” said the Scotsman, narrowing his eyes “and I mean no more _foolin’ around_ , ye ken?” 

Brent raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but like you’re not my dad. You can’t like tell me what to do.” 

“Ye’re not teenagers! More importantly, both of ye aren’t yerselves! The nature of yer _real_ relationship is yet to be determined.” The Scotsman could only imagine his friend’s reaction when he would regain his memories. He would most likely faint...or die. “Look. I just dinnae want ye to do anything reckless with the way ye are right now. We’ve gotta try and be more careful, lad.”

Brent blinked, then shook his head, laughing. “Dude. I _gotcha_. I totally get it.” His eyes lit up with understanding. 

The Scotsman’s bushy eyebrows shot up. He did…? That was surprisingly...easy. Nonetheless, who was he to complain? “Oh laddie! Ye _can_ be reasoned with! I’m pleased as a wee bairn that ye”—

“Ashley and I got it covered. We use protection like all the time, so no worries!”

…

…

The Scotsman aimed his submachine gun leg at Brent’s face. Unfortunately, the afterlife failed to provide ammo. 


	12. Chapter 12

The Scotsman blinked.

“Lassie….HOW?”

“Like...whatever do you mean?” Ashley asked, tilting her head at him with a smile. Even her curious expression had too much pep for the Scotsman’s taste. The ghost pointed at her blue dress that looked as though someone had stretched layers upon layers of fabric over an open umbrella. It was even puffier than the previous one! 

“HOW” the Scotsman uttered in complete bafflement, “...do ye keep all these knick knacks under yer skirts?”

Just as Ashley was about to end the mystery, Brent showed up, informing them that he had found a dirt path and that they were only a few hours close to their destination. 

The Scotsman could not be more pleased to hear this. There were bound to be a few establishments, and in them, people with actual brains who could lend a hand.


	13. Chapter 13

_“OH HELL NO!_ ” An old man with cloudy grey hair exclaimed when the Scotsman and his companions entered the seemingly unassuming teahouse inn.

“Not you TWO again!” He pointed a finger at Brent and Ashley, who were too busy making smoochy faces at each other to care. The Scotsman immediately shot over to the man who stood behind the counter.

“Do ye ken these two?!” He could not hide his excitement at possibly finding a credible lead.

The man blinked at the blue apparition before affirmatively grunting, “My condolences, my blue man. If you had to spend all this time with them freaky-deakies…” He gestured once more with his head to the sugary sweet couple, “I would have offed myself too!” 

“Enough with that! Tell me! What do ye ken about these two?”

“No way, José! If you want a tune, you gotta pay the piper!” He smirked, rubbing his thumb to his index and middle fingers.

His green tinted glasses slid down his nose to reveal the glint in his eyes. “Catch my drift?”


	14. Chapter 14

As Brent and Ashley shared a tall frothy milkshake that the Scotsman forced them to order, the man who called himself “Da Samurai” began spinning his tale. “Little leafbabe over there came here one rainy evenin’ sayin’ she was lookin’ for, _get this_ , Samurai Jack.” 

Both men turned and watched the couple giggling over their drink. Da Samurai rolled his eyes, snorting, “In the end, she’s just another one of them Samurai groupies. Found herself a lookalike. I personally don’t see the resemblance but not everyone has good eyes.” 

“Yeah,” a robotic man who sat close to the conversation agreed, “the chin’s off.”

The Scotsman grinned awkwardly. No point correcting them, especially in a place brimming with suspicious-looking characters. 

“So anyway, little hunny bunny didn’t hang around long and took off. A couple of hours later, she came back….with _him_.” Da Samurai hung his head with a sigh, “That’s when things got...nasty.”

“They were a mess!” One patron spoke. “Both looked like they came from the jungle with their matchy caveman threads.”

Another scoffed. “And they sure acted like it too.”

“Yeah!” Someone from the far back piped in. “We had to watch ‘em neckin’ like teenagers!” 

“I liked the beard though…”

“No one asked ya!” 

The Scotsman cringed. _That sounded like them all right._

“I gave them a room.” Da Samurai said, and then shuddered as though recalling a horrible incident. 

“ _That_ was a mistake. Until now, no soul, not even Pete the janitor, wants to go inside that damn room.”

The Scotsman felt a surge of pity for the owner.

“Ye have my deepest sympathies…”


	15. Chapter 15

“Do we like have to be here? It’s all damp, cold and spooky.”

“Shut it!” The Scotsman yelled. Brent had been whining the moment they left the teahouse. The two men had set off to find the mysterious plant creature while Ashley stayed behind to luxuriate in a bath.

“I miss Ashley…” Brent sniffed.

“It’s literally only been _twenty_ minutes!”

The Scotsman found that the couple was just as annoying separated as when they were together. They followed a northern path, relying on Brent’s memory. In the cold fog, they moved past tall grass and trees and crossed a small river. Up ahead was a narrow pathway leading down a….

“A cemetery.” The Scotsman frowned. The eerie atmosphere of protruding markers behind a misty veil was unsettling, even to a spirit like himself. 

“Yeah,” Brent gushed unperturbed, a palm over his own heart, “where I met my beautiful Ashley. It was like love at first sight, man. With her sexy hair, pouty lips, and sweet, sweet”—

“SHUT IT!”

The Scotsman was about to let him have more when he sensed something. “Do ye hear that?” He asked, eyes darting about for the source of a low rumbling sound.

Brent merely shrugged. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

Seconds later, a thick ropey vine grabbed Brent by the ankle and tossed him in the air like a salad. 

“ _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!_ ” screamed Brent, and not in the loud war cry way of his samurai self, as what had to be the hideous purple “radical” plant monster unearthed itself. 

“Don’t eat me!” He pleaded. “I’m like full of carbs!”

“Hold on, me friend!” shouted the Scotsman, his gaze trying its best to follow the loops and arches his friend was being subjected to. 

After slamming Brent against a few headstones, the monster dangled him over its wide mouth, where rows of thorn-like teeth appeared. 

“Don’t worry, lad!” The Scotsman shouted, as he dug around his own person for his magical bagpipes.

But before he could blast his ghostly notes, a blur of green whizzed past and the plant monster’s bulbous head was suddenly thrown back, as though a great force had knocked it. The Scotsman dropped his ghostly instrument in disbelief when he realized what that force was—or rather _whom_ it was.

_“Lassie?!”_


	16. Chapter 16

Ashley did not spare the slack-jawed ghost a glance as she uprooted the dazed monster with a brute force that seemed unlikely for someone with dainty hands. With an uncharacteristic scream, she savagely slammed the monster repeatedly on to the ground, causing Brent to fall away from its loosened vine grip. 

The Scotsman zoomed over to Brent’s side. “Lad! Speak to me!” 

Brent groaned but he shakily held up one hand to give a thumb’s up, much to the ghost’s relief. 

Then, a moment later, all commotion died down and the Scotsman turned around warily to find Ashley standing beside the pulpy remains of the plant monster, looking none too pleased at the botanical fluids staining her puffy green dress. 

At this point, the Scotsman no longer bothered wondering about her larger than life wardrobe. 

“Are ye all right, lass?”

“Ew! Ew! Ew!” Ashley whined in disgust as she picked at a spot on her frilly skirt. “Like this is so super gross! What happened here?”

The Scotsman blinked. Once. Twice. Then, promptly exploded. 

“WHAT DO YE MEAN WHAT HAPPENED HERE?! YE SKELPED THAT MONSTER AROUND LIKE A SACK OF WEE KITTENS, THAT’S WHAT!” 

She gasped, curling her tiny hands to her chest. “What! I would never! Especially kittens! I’m as harmless as a floating cotton ball.”

“So...are ye telling me ye dinnae remember what happened literally a minute ago?”

“After my bath, I was really missing my darling-doo.” Ashley sighed dramatically, drawing small circles on the ground with the point of her glossy shoe. “So I decided to catch up. And here I am!” 

“But...ye tossed that overgrown shrub like it was nothing!”

Ashely laughed. “You’re such a funny ghost! I can barely open a jar of pickles.”

The Scotsman was about to argue again when Brent moaned in pain. Panicking, Ashley rushed and knelt over to him, holding him up as though he were a fallen soldier on the battlefield.

“Oh, Brenty-poo! My rice pudding!”

Brent made a show of struggling to open his eyes, much to the Scotsman’s annoyance. 

“Oh…” Brent said when he finally looked up to Ashley. “Am I in heaven…?” A pause. Then, he flashed a grin. “Because you look like an angel.” 

Ashley squealed in delight. 

“Oh, cherry jubilee! You’re such a charmer!”

“No, you’re the charmer, my tapioca pearl. Because I’m like always entranced by you.”

“You’re such a big sweetie, yes you are!”

As the two lovers babbled on, the Scotsman morosely floated over to the nearest grave marker. He laid over the burial plot and sank down in the earth to be put to rest.


	17. Chapter 17

The Scotsman decided that Ashley’s memory lapse (on top of the actual memory loss) was just a side effect from the plant creature she annihilated. The Obliviscor Trap. A carnivorous plant that sucked on the brain juices of its prey before taking a big chomp. He had suspected as much but needed to be sure.

It was both a miracle and dumb luck combined the two of them did not end up digested the first time around. 

Though...where on earth did Ashley’s strength come from? His gaze wandered over to the lass in question, who was talking on the phone...with Brent...just ten steps away from her. 

Ignoring their stupid antic, the Scotsman tried to picture Ashley as a fighter outside of her poofy skirts. Perhaps his friend had taken her up as an ally. His stupid version did mention how she had fought off some characters pre-brainlessness. Still, it was hard to believe given how...blessedly _tiny_ she was. His own bonnie daughters could use her as a toothpick.

But there was no denying what he had seen at the cemetery. In any case, he needed more answers. The only way to get them was to retrieve their memories. 

Luckily enough, there was a remedy for just that.

But it would entail more journeying…

…

...

Celtic gods help his soul.


	18. Chapter 18

“Are we there yet?” Brent whined for the thousandth time. Thankfully, after days of traveling, the Scotsman had learned to ignore his caterwauling, and focus instead on getting to their destination. 

“Aries Mountain should just be up ahead.” chirped Ashley as she consulted the map on her phone. “I hope there’s like a spa or cafe!” 

The Scotsman was grateful for Ashley’s optimism. Had she been an uppity brat, she would have already long insisted they turn back and Brent would follow, leaving the Scotsman with no physical means of stopping them. She also proved to be a lot more useful than his brainless friend, even if she sounded like a candy store commercial most of the time.

“Don’t let go of my hand, gummy bear!” Brent said, grabbing Ashley’s hand right after she pocketed her phone. “You might get lost.”

“Lad.” The Scotsman could not help himself. “There’s nothing but sand and dirt all around! I dinnae see how she could get herself lost, especially with how ye’re always holding her hand like a wee baby!”

“Like oh my gosh!” Ashley interrupted, literally peering through the ghost and pointing with her free hand. “I think I see it!” 

The Scotsman whooshed around and was elated to see she was right. Aries Mountain, peeking just over the horizon. 

The Scotsman gave a whooping cheer. 

The preservation of his sanity was now within his reach.


	19. Chapter 19

“There’s like a hole.”

“Yes, lad.” The Scotsman replied wearily. “We can all see it.” 

True enough, there was a giant hole in the dead center of the barren summit of where they stood. There were no signs of vegetation at all, only piles of rubble and broken stone pillars, which worried the ghost.

“Aww…” Ashley pouted, plopping down on to a rock, which soon disappeared under the fluff of her periwinkle skirts. “There’s no gift shop even! We climbed all the way up here for nothing!” 

“I think there’s something next to you, my crepe suzette.” said Brent, pointing at the base of where Ashley sat, to something protruding from the drape of her skirts.

“Ooh!” Ashley checked, and her curiosity quickly turned into horror. “Oh my gosh! It’s a yucky skeleton!” 

She leapt off the rock and into Brent’s waiting arms. 

The Scotsman examined the remains, staring into the empty socket holes of a horned skull. “It’s just a wee ram, lass. Rather...what’s left of it. No need to get yer knickers twisted. Hmm…” The ribcage caught his attention. “There’s a clean line here. Poor thing was cut down by some basturt.” 

Brent’s face went aghast as he continued to comfort his distraught girlfriend. “Like, what kind of despicable monster would do such a thing to a poor innocent creature?!”


	20. Chapter 20

The next day after making camp, the Scotsman shared his plan of action. 

“So last night while ye two were…” A tired sigh. “... _canoodling._ I decided to take a swatch down the crater.” Actually, the ghost had wanted an escape from the couple and chanced upon his discovery. 

“The memory root is down below! Like all the way to the bottom! Of course, one of ye is gonnae have to come with me to get it, on account of me being _out of touch_.” He stopped to laugh at his own joke. “Of course when I say one of ye...I mean lover boy over here.” 

Brent was not happy. “I don’t wanna go down there! It’s dark and creepy! Like, not to mention dangerous. My job doesn’t cover that kind of insurance!” 

“Ye’ll be fine!” assured the Scotsman, his arm passing through the lad at his attempt of a shoulder thump. “I’ll be with ye to guide yer way and as for yer safety…” He turned to Ashley, winking with a toothy grin.

Ashley beamed with understanding, and with a shimmy of her skirts, produced a backpack full of rappelling and mountain climbing gear. 


	21. Chapter 21

“Be careful down there, mochi.” Ashley sighed as she gazed up at her boyfriend’s face. “I’ll be counting the seconds for your return...like, while I do yoga of course.”

“Oh, tarte tatin…” sighed Brent. “I wish I could stay and like, watch you. I love it when you do downward-facing dog.”

“AND _I_ LOVE IT WHEN YE FINALLY SHUT YER TRAP AND GET A MOVE ON!”

After a few more minutes of heartfelt goodbyes and air kisses, the Scotsman finally got him to start their descent. 

It was a long laborious process, with Brent intermittently stopping to secure hooks into the rocky walls. Thankfully this kept the lad quiet, too focused on not falling to his death. 

The Scotsman made sure his mortal friend took breaks when they touched down on any overhangs that allowed him to rest. A lot of times, Ashley’s name would come out in needy whimpers as he slept, which was oddly touching for the ghost. Here was a lad scared out of his wits but still thought of his sweetheart. The sentiment made the Scotsman remember his own beloved wife. 

What he would give to have his beautiful angel back in his arms and to—

“Oh Ashley...” Brent chuckled in his sleep. “You’re so _bad_...”

“BREAK TIME IS OVER YE CREEP!”


	22. Chapter 22

“Like...that’s it?” Brent voiced his obnoxious disappointment as he eyed the exposed white-spotted roots growing from the earth wall. They had finally reached the internal bottom of the mountain, in record time too. After all, there was no need to dawdle and keep the lass waiting upstairs. 

Though, by all accounts, she probably pulled a TV and satellite dish from her magical skirts and was having a grand time. 

“There’s like,  _another_ goat skull thing here.” Brent said, shining his helmet light to the object on the ground. “Is this why it’s called Aries Mountain? I’m like a Sagittarius though.”

“I didnae asked! Just pull the darn root out so we can see topside again.” 

“Fine by me. I miss Ashley...her face, her laugh, the smell of her hair and like, the sway of her hips as she”—

“HURRY IT UP!”

The Scotsman watched as Brent removed his backpack, then anchored one foot to the craggy wall. He grabbed the sought-after roots with both hands and with one great huff, he pulled as hard as he could. He strained and struggled but the roots would not give. The Scotsman yelled out words of encouragement, which mostly consisted of long-winded insults. 

“IS THAT THE BEST YE CAN DO?! ME OWN DEAD MAW COULD LIFT AN ANVIL WHILE FINISHING HER KNITTING! A WEE BAIRN COULD DO QUICKER WORK EVEN WHILE SUCKING ON A TEAT! PUT YER BACK INTO IT YE GREAT BIG DIDDY!  _**PULL!** _ ”

Suddenly, there was a pop.

And Brent was flung back, the light bouncing around the darkness as his helmet came flying off. His back crashed against the rocky wall behind him with a loud thud. Brent slumped down against the wall, not looking too conscious...or alive even.

“Laddie!” The Scotsman came to him, trying to hold his face to no avail. “Wake up!”

No response. The ghost pulled away, pulling at his own mustache in a panic. “I killed me own pal! Oh no, this is bad!” He cursed at his own uselessness, unable to check his friend’s pulse or provide even basic first aid. 

His friend needed medical help and quickly! 

The Scotsman looked up, brimming with resolve. 

There was only one person who could help his friend. 

And he hoped to gods she had an ambulance in her skirts. 


	23. Chapter 23

“WHAT IN ODIN’S BEARD?!” 

It was a bloodbath. Every inch of the mountain was covered in orcs. Dead orcs. All of them in pieces and unnatural shapes, and a large number of them were impaled in gruesome fashion. Aside from their deaths, they shared another thing in common. Their faces were frozen in an expression that bore eternal witness to whatever hellish nightmare they had to suffer from. 

“OH MY GOSH!” 

Ashley approached the Scotsman, and she was drenched head to toe in blood. “I’m like so glad you’re here!” She said, sidestepping some orc chunks. “You’ll never believe the day I had! It’s horrible! I broke a nail!” She held out her hand to his inspection. 

The Scotsman could only blink at it and Ashley took his silence for a listening ear and went on.

“I was just filing my nails, minding my own business when it happened. My emery board went bent and totally cracked my nail!”

“Wha”— Her complaint snapped the Scotsman back to reality. “Lassie! Forget yer nails! What in blazes happened here?!” 

Ashley shrugged, clearly prioritizing her manicure as she buffed away some orc blood. The Scotsman wondered how this same lass could be so jumpy from seeing an animal carcass but then be completely gallus around a gorey mess. 

“Oh. I dunno. They just showed up and died.” 

…

…

“They just... _died?_ ” 

“Yeah.” She said, unperturbed. “One minute, they’re standing around being all mean and ugly and the next...well.” She swept her arms up, gesturing to the carnage all around them. “I mean, I figured they just died from natural causes. You know, how like some elephants go somewhere to die peacefully? Freaky. But like who am I to question nature, you know?” 

“Lass. How does _this”_ — He pointed to an orc whose body had been cleanly snapped in two, spine visible—"fall _peacefully_ under natural causes?!” 

“Well I dunno!” Ashley rolled her eyes. “You tell me. I’m like not a doctor. Anyway I wish they didn’t leave such a mess because I am _not_ using my fluffy clean towels until we find like a pool or something to wash off.” 

The Scotsman, despite being dead, felt a bone-weary tiredness that should not be possible. 

“By the way.” Ashley peeked through the Scotsman’s translucent body. “Where’s my sweet lemon square?” 

The innocent question jolted the Scotsman, remembering why he even came back up in the first place. 

“Lass! Ye have to hurry! The lad! He’s”—

“ _ASHI!_ ” 

Both the Scotsman and Ashley turned their attention to the harsh yet feminine voice that belonged to a stranger dressed in complete black. She wore a red tinted mask decorated with Aku-like horns. The face painted on it was expressionless but there was definitely something dark and sinister lurking beneath it.

She stood tall, wielding a longbow in her hand. 

“Bawsack!” exclaimed a frustrated Scotsman. “Now who’s this hackit old bint?!”


	24. Chapter 24

“I _knew_ you would fail us!” The masked woman sneered, as she slowly made her way over to Ashley and the ghost. 

“You were the strongest.” She continued. “But the most unfocused! Always distracted. Questioning everything!” With the length of her black hem, it appeared as though she was gliding towards them. She stopped when she was only a few paces away. 

Both the Scotsman and Ashley turned to each other in a whispering huddle. 

“Ye ken this broad, lass?” 

Ashley shook her head. “No, like not personally. But I might have an idea…” She then faced the mysterious woman and made a shooing gesture with her hands. “Sorry, AkuVON lady. Like we’re not interested. I’ve already bought make-up from Akuzon.” 

This seemed to throw the masked woman off, the Scotsman observed, as the steady grip on her longbow loosened causing it to tip at an angle. 

“Are you... _mocking_ me?”

“Like no offense…” said Ashley. “But you never carry my shade and your lipsticks are always so chalky.” 

“Ashi!” 

“What do you mean “ashy”?! My complexion is perfect! And you are _so_ not winning customers with _that_ attitude.” 

“I think she ken you, lass.” The Scotsman whispered. 

Ashley laughed off the idea. “No way!” Then, in a low voice, added. “I mean, do you see what she’s wearing? Yikes. This is why I never hang with goths.” 

“Enough!” The masked woman shouted before pointing a finger at Ashley. “You were supposed to kill the Samurai! To unburden the world created by our wonderful Maker. He, the benevolent Father to us all, Aku!” 

“Great.” Ashley muttered. “She probably wants to like convert us or something.” 

Her exasperation failed to reach the Scotsman’s ears, who was occupied by something the other woman had just said. 

_Kill the Samurai?!_

Wait—did that mean the lassie was one of Aku’s goons? He could not— _did not_ —want to believe it. But the more the wheels turned inside his head, the more things came into place. It would explain why the lass was so powerful, as evidenced by the dead bodies littered around them. 

He eyed Ashley and, not bothering to disguise the hurt in his voice, asked.

“Lassie...were ye sent to kill me friend?” 

Ashley tilted her head at him with a confused frown. “Like huh?” 

“Me friend! The one ye’ve been locking lips with! Samurai Jack!” 

“Samurai...Jack…?” She narrowed her eyes, saying the name like it weighed heavy on the tongue. Then, she violently shook her head. “My Brenty-bear could never be that vile criminal!”

 _Strong words from someone covered in blood_ _._

“You are a traitor!” The masked woman screeched, not wanting to be ignored. “Allying yourself with the Samurai! Even worse, becoming his whore!”

Ashley’s spine snapped upright. And the Scotsman noted a sudden change in her aura. Her eyes narrowed, and a storm gathered within them. There was a deep wrinkling in the contours of her face as she bared her teeth out like fangs. 

“ _Excuse me…?_ ”

The woman began to unfasten her cloak, letting it fall like a black puddle at her heels.

“You are no longer fit to serve our master. Death is your only salvation. Afterwards, the Samurai will fall! His blood will water the earth, and his dying breath will be a song of jubilation. For at last! The wretched Samurai is dead”—

Her words were cut off by Ashley punching her square in the masked face. 


	25. Chapter 25

“How dare you!” The masked woman seethed, blocking Ashi’s next blow with her longbow. “You dare strike me?!” 

Ashley let out a feral scream as she charged forward. The masked woman sped backwards away from her. Dropping her long range weapon, she pulled out a dagger with a curved blade.

The Scotsman cried out in fear. “LASSIE!”

But his concern appeared to be for naught, as Ashley evaded the woman’s multiple stab attempts with ease. She even stopped abruptly in the chase to break off the tip of a fallen orc’s spear, using it to parry against the woman. Steel clashed against steel until they reached a deadlock and stared each other down through their crossed weapons. The back of Ashley’s heels was teetering dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. 

“Lass! Be smart! Think this through!” shouted the ghost.

“Yes, Ashi.” The woman said. “You can still redeem yourself! Kill the Samurai!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

Ashley began to speak, in a voice that the Scotsman did not recognize. “I won’t let you touch one hair on the Samurai. I will safeguard him from harm. No matter the cost!” At her declaration, Ashley disengaged her weapon, allowing herself to fall back. She did a quick side spin just before the masked woman could plunge her dagger. 

Enraged, the woman reached behind her and pulled out throwing stars between her knuckles. Her aim was quick and true. And Ashley, unable to find cover in time, would have been squarely hit if not for a piercing, wailing sound that floated in the air. The stars splintered into shardlike needles but left Ashley untouched, as if there was a strange, invisible shield protecting her. 

Ashley glanced up to find the Scotsman straining himself to hold a note on his bagpipes. Not wasting time, she took advantage of her immunity and crashed forward against the enemy with the barrier. 

The Scotsman, holding his musical breath, watched everything from above. The masked broad was as good as an insect on a windshield. 

With a fierce cry, the lass continued pushing at high speed until she reached the edge of the mountain. Her abrupt stop caused the woman to catapult into the air. 

The Scotsman released his breath with a tired pant, thinking it was all over. He was wrong. With the barrier gone, Ashley threw back the arm still wielding the spear tip and pitched it forward. The ghost watched in horror as the arrow passed through the torso of the woman before she plummeted down. If the arrow did not kill her, the fall likely would. It was an overkill of a death to be certain. 

The Scotsman’s concern returned to Ashley, who was kneeling on the ground, one hand clutching the side of her head in pain. 

“ _Lassie_ _._ ” He floated in front of her, his voice soft as he could muster. “It’s fine, lass. Take yer time and breathe...” 

Ashley did not reply. She simply knelt there, gasping for air like a fish as she kept her eyes squeezed shut. The blood on her person was caked like a dry wound. The Scotsman kept a silent watch next to her, waiting for her to regain her bearings. 

After what felt like an eternity, Ashley straightened back up, a sigh escaping her lips. Her lashes slowly lifted, fluttering like butterflies as though awakening from a dream. 

“Wow!” Her sugary voice sounded as she steadied herself back up on her feet. “My back is killing me! Must be from all that climbing we did…”

She placed her hands on her tailbone, trying to soothe out her aches. When she finally took notice of her gaping ghost friend, she gave him the perkiest of smiles.

“Oh heya! Did you get rid of that pesky saleslady?” 

…

…

“Aye, lass. She took off like a bird.”


	26. Chapter 26

“I really could use a nice bubble bath right about now.” Ashley muttered, dreading the state of her clothes. “And my Brenty-poo could wash my back.” She added with a giggle.

The Scotsman could only shudder. “I dinnae wanna hear it…” 

Then, it hit him like a lightning bolt from Thor. _The lad!_

“Wait! Lass!” The ghost started to panic. “The lad! He’s in trouble and ye need to”—

“ _Gasp!_ ” Ashley pointed at something behind him. The Scotsman followed the direction of her finger, spinning around to witness a bright orb of light flashing in the air. Then, it exploded, creating a bright canvas that forced Ashley to look away. 

The Scotsman stared on, however, his ghostly eyes widening in disbelief. He could see the silhouette of a man, one arm extended to the sky, wielding a long object. He knew the sight well. And his metaphorical spirits soared even higher as the light died away to reveal a man in an archaic robe and topknot. The blade of his sword gleaming. He was back. Samurai Jack. But to the ghost, he was just a pajama-wearing dafty, a friend.

His friend lowered his sword and both the Scotsman and the recovered lass sounded at the same time. 

“ _Eggroll!_ ”

“ _Lad!_ ”

They both hurried over to him. But then Ashley stopped in her tracks. The initial shock having left her, she finally took notice of his appearance. Her eyes were filled with dismay as she kept a wary distance. 

“Ew! What are you wearing?!”

The Scotsman only laughed, as he patted his friend’s shoulder in a ghostly manner. 

“Ye’re back to yer old self! And ye got yer sword back!”

His friend shrugged, propping his sword to the ground like it was a cane.

He looked unsure as he spoke, still in the irritating voice of Brent. “Yeah. Like I think I won it?” 

…

…

The Scotsman broke into another guffaw.

“Oh! I gotcha! Pulling me leg, huh? Well have mercy, I only got one left!”

“Um.” His friend narrowed his eyes at the ghost in confusion. “I like don’t get it.”

At first, the ghost did not believe him. But when it was clear his friend was not fibbing and was still sans brain, his joking stopped. 

“B-But!” The Scotsman made a sweeping gesture with his meaty hands at his friend’s Samurai appearance. "How did you”—?! 

A strange look came over his friend’s face as he began a long-winded tale. 

“I was like in this weird psychedelic place...it was all mysterious and spacey...but like in a chill way. Oh! And I got to do some paddle boarding, which was awesome! Then, I met this old man. He had some mystic good vibes. I think he was a priest or monk or rabbi. In any case, respect all religions. But like, he wanted me to make him tea. Which was like _psh!_ I worked as a barista and you’re just gonna ask for leaves in hot water? _Nuh-uh!_ So it took a while, but I managed to put together an iced matcha latte instead and the dude _loved_ it. He went crazy for it. Then, next thing I know, some weird cosplayers appeared out of nowhere. Told me some mumbo-jumbo and gave me an instant makeover and sword. Didn’t see any cameras though if it were some reality show. But like, here I am.”

There was a momentary silence afterwards, but was quickly broken by Ashley’s excited squeal. No longer dubious of his lame clothes, she flung herself at him. Brent willingly caught her, dropping the sword to the ground like it was nothing but a cheap prop. He also did not seem to mind or question why his sweetheart was covered in blood. He twirled Ashely around, giggling with her.

“I missed you so much, yogurt cup!”

“So did I, my sarsaparilla!”

The sight of his friend looking like his former self and spinning a blood-soaked poof-wearing doll around chunks of orc meat made the Scotsman wonder if he was in some sort of weird afterlife limbo. He let out a sigh before his eyes fell on Jack’s neglected sword and found himself counting his blessings. Missing brains aside, the sacred blade was at least one thing to cross off their list. 

Now, they just needed to get that blasted memory root and—

“Oh yeah.” Brent said after he finally put Ashley down. He reached for something inside his robe. “Here’s that plant thing you wanted.” 

“Ooh!” Ashley snatched it from his hands, proudly showing it off to the ghost herself. “This would go perfectly with a salad!”

…

…

The Scotsman found himself silently thanking whatever mystic good vibes was out there. 


	27. Chapter 27

“Before we, or rather, ye dine…” The Scotsman cleared his throat as he floated above the fire of their camp, which they had made in an oasis in the desert, far away from the massacre-filled mountain. “I’d like to say a few words.” 

“Wow.” Brent chuckled as he accepted a bowl of Ashley’s stew, which contained foraged ingredients to go along with the chopped up roots they had retrieved from the mountain. “Like why so formal?”

“Quiet!” Ashley playfully scolded, as she sat up in rapt attention, waiting for the ghost to speak. 

The Scotsman puffed up his broad chest as he began. “I’d like to say the time spent with the two of ye...well, it wasn’t all that bad.”  


His glance rested on Ashley, a soft smile underneath his bushy facial hair. 

“Lassie, I dinnae ken who ye are or if ye’re an evil one”— He shushed her when she was about to protest. “But what I do ken is that regardless of what happens, ye’re a special lass and ye wormed yer way into this old man’s heart.”

He placed his palm over his heart, eyes twinkling with paternal affection. This caused tears to sparkle in Ashley’s eyes and she tried to catch them with her hand, sniffling as she did. 

The ghost then turned his attention towards Brent. 

“Laddie…” He said, eyeing Brent who sat up straighter in anticipation. 

The suspension hung in the air until the Scotsman finally spoke again.

“...Ye need a haircut. All right, that’s all! Time to dig in.” 


	28. Chapter 28

The ghost stared into the face of his sleeping friend, who retired early last night after having had supper. Ashley was beside him on the sleeping pallet, curled up and laying on her side, facing away from Brent. 

Dawn had just broken, soft hues of pink streaking the desert sky. It was when the morning light finally broke through gaps of the palm trees did his friend begin to stir. The Scotsman watched as the lad’s face twitched from the warm sunlight, then one hand fanned over his eyes with a yawn. 

Excitement stirred within the ghost as his friend slowly pushed away from the pallet, his eyes opening to reveal bloodshot confusion. They blinked, once, twice, brows furrowing. Then, they widened with panic at the sight of the blue apparition before him. 

“...Friend?” 

The Scotsman felt a gut punch of happiness outside the mortal plane. It was really him! He had truly come back. 

“Oh laddie! I’ve missed ye terribly I did!” 

“You are dead.” The low, soft-spoken voice sounded again, laced with worry. “I am confused. What”— His words halted when his eyes swept down to his side, where a young woman began to stir as well.

She twisted her fists over her eyes, rubbing away the last vestiges of sleep. When her vision adjusted, she broke into a gasp at the persons, living and dead, in her proximity. She especially stared at the man sitting next to her with scrutiny before exclaiming, “Jack!” 

The Scotsman noted the difference of her voice. There were no traces of the high-pitched sugary tone that had tested his dead ears. It was, however, exactly the same voice she had when she had been under that weird trance up on the mountain. It was a lower register with a hard edge to it. 

The ghost kept quiet as he studied the exchange between his dunderhead friend and the lass.

“I...uh...like your hair and dress.”

“You...got a haircut and a shave.” said “Ashley”, pointing to his face, which caused his friend to rub at his own chin. He looked surprised to find it clean shaven. 

“It would appear I did.”

“Your sword! You have it!”

“What?!” Jack followed her pointed finger to behind him, to a sheathed sword impaled in the sand. 

“But...how?"

“Now that’s an interesting story.” The Scotsman chuckled, gaining their attention. “I’m just pleased ye two are back to yerselves. Well, I  _ assume _ .” The last part was directed at “Ashley”, who looked utterly confused. This only made the ghost cackle again. 

“Yer gonnae hafta help yer lady friend out, lad.” He said, sinking through the sand in front of them until he was at eye-level. “Startin’ off with some introductions.” He motioned his head towards the lass with a wink. 

“Oh!” Jack’s eyes widened. “Of course.”

From their interaction just now, the Scotsman had been internally whooping with relief at the two of them being more than acquaintances. It certainly justified their disgusting behavior throughout their brainless experience. The ghost was definitely going to make sure the lad would suffer through ten schoolboys’ worth of childish teasing over his little girlfriend.

Unfortunately, that plan immediately fell apart when his friend turned to the lass with a troubled expression. 

“I am sorry...I never got your name.” 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit slow because I'm crashing the tropical beaches (while social distancing). I'll wrap this up soon though.

If it were possible for the Scotsman to still imbibe, he would have spat out his drink several times already, throughout the story being regaled to him. 

“ _Ye were really sent to kill him?!_ ” The ghost gawked at the lass, whose real name was revealed to be Ashi. A name her mother should be crucified for! What arse of a parent would name their child after the burnt remains of a fireplace? 

“It is all in the past, friend.” Jack told the ghost with a smile. “Ashi has severed her allegiance to Aku.” 

Ashi bowed her head, finding sudden interest in the frothy concoction of a dress she was in. Unlike Jack, she had chosen to remain seated in her spot on the pallet, smoothing out the layers of skirts around her. 

The ghost noted the rosy color dusting her skin and wondered if there was something wrong with her. Before he could ask, Jack beat him with an entirely different inquiry. 

“What is this?”

The Scotsman turned to his friend, who held a portable object in his hand. An object that the ghost was certain of to be evil. 

“It appears to be a sort of communication device.” Jack went on, turning it in his hands like the big ninny he was. Fifty years in this forsaken world, one would think he’d know what a damn cell phone was. 

“Lad.” The ghost voice held a serious note. “Do ye trust me with yer life? Have I ever proven unworthy of yer good faith?”

His friend’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring with an affronted snort. “My friend, I am insulted you would hint to anything that is the truth. You are my comrade and”—

“Good. Chuck that thing into the water.”

Jack blinked. His gaze sweeping from the piece of technology in his hand to the pool of water behind him where the Scotsman was pointing to. 

“ _What?_ ”

“Dinnae ask questions, lad! For all our sakes, just do it!” For the ghost, there was no need to keep evidence of Brent and Ashley’s deviant behavior, which undoubtedly existed in their handheld devices. He shuddered, recalling the numerous clicks and giggles he had heard coming from inside their tent. 

The ghost then turned to Ashi, still on the pallet. His voice was noticeably gentler as he spoke to her.

“Lass, ye should do the same. Come on, up on yer feet now.” 

Ashi finally looked up, her face marred with distress. 

“I...can’t.”

The Scotsman slashed down in confusion. 

“Why not?” 

“I really can’t.” She said, and she began wriggling in her spot like a vibrating cupcake with flailing legs. Needless to say, it was a sight that startled both of her male companions. Beads of sweat lined her brows and temples when she finally ceased her bizarre actions, out of breath and panting for air. 

Jack took a cautious step forward but immediately retracted when Ashi let out a scream of frustration. Then, she thrashed around some more, foaming at the mouth in her exertion. 

“ _This stupid dress is weighing me down!_ ”


	30. Chapter 30

“Are ye sure you dinnae wanna come with me? We’ve racked up some numbers to liken an army.” The ghost tried once more to convince his friend to see their resistance camp. “Ye have to meet me bonnie girls! They’ve been dyin’ to meet their Uncle Jack...though I beat them to it.” 

He broke into a laugh, quietly choosing not to disclose his initial plans of having his friend become his son-in-law. 

Jack bowed his head. 

“Thank you, my friend. I appreciate it. But I do not wish to put others at risk for my sake. Also...” The samurai put a hand on his sword, his fingers tightening over the yellow diamonds on the handle. “After all that has happened. I wish to reorient myself.” 

“Hah!” The Scotsman snorted. “After all that’s happened, ye need someone to keep an eye on ye.” 

Ashi stepped in between the two friends. Her clothes were tattered from the waist down after she had begged Jack to slice through the oppressive material of her skirts. Fortunately, there was still plenty of fabric left over to cover her decently. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect him.” She said, beating a fist to her chest. Her self-confidence would have been more convincing if the ghost had not seen her cry in distress from being trapped in a poofy dress. 

Still, he had to smile.

“Aye. I have a feeling you will, lass.”

“But Ashi”—

“You can’t change my mind.” She snarled at Jack, who quickly took a step back. “So you’ll have to accept my help, whether you like it or not!”

The Scotsman broke into a hearty laugh. 

“I like yer fire, lass. Keep him on his toes!” Then, the ghost sobered and turned to his old friend with a hopeful smile. “Will ye at least stop by to visit an old departed friend?” 

Jack did not hesitate with an answer. 

“Of course. Anything for a friend.” 

“Bless ye lad, ye’re family to me.” 

Ashi sighed at the exchange. “I wish my sisters could have seen the truth.” There was a sad, wistful note in her voice. The ghost, prey to a lass in need of comfort, immediately tried to smoothen her frown as he would with his own daughters. 

“Fret not, lass.” He said. “If ye changed yer mind, maybe they could too.”

“Umm...they cannot.” His friend piped in, awkwardly shuffling on his feet. “They have...passed on.”

“Oh!” The Scotsman’s eyebrows lowered in dismay. “I’m sorry, lass. Truly.”

“It’s okay. I’ve accepted it.” She said with a resigned shrug. “It’s too late for them and I know it’s impossible for my mother.”

“Bah!” The ghost’s anger stirred. “She better not show her face around here or I’ll give her what for.” That woman had a lot to answer for with her despicable parenting. He clamored for a chance to teach her a lesson. 

“I doubt you’ll ever see her face.” Ashi sighed. “She hides it with a red mask.”

…

…

“Yeah, ye’re right, lass. It’s impossible for her.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit slow with the last few updates because of my vacation vibes. But yay! It's finally done. I hope you liked it.

After a lengthy period of reacquainting with his old friend, _and_ getting to know his new one, the Scotsman could see the sun climbing to its peak. It was best his mortal friends set off now so they could reach the closest town before sunset. The Scotsman would have to float to the opposite direction for his own destination. The resistance was undoubtedly going to be in an uproar over his lengthy absence. His bonnie heather blossoms would fret about him too, dead or not. 

“I will see you soon, my friend.” Jack smiled, coming to the same conclusion as well. “Rest assured, I have your coordinates and will be in touch.”

“Dinnae keep me waiting, lad.” replied the Scotsman, showing off a toothy grin.

Jack turned to Ashi with a nod. 

“Are you ready to go, my sweet honey tart?” 

...

...

No sooner the words were spoken, an awkward silence ensued. 

...

...

“I...a-apologize.” Jack stammered out, sounding as though his windpipe were being crushed. A deep shade of red spread on his skin like a giant sunburn. “I do n-not know what came over me.” He explained. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

The Scotsman raised a knowing eyebrow.

“All five syllables?”

Ashi tried to laugh it off, but it was not very convincing. With a smile that was more of a cringe, she made a dismissive gesture with her hand as she tried once more to brush off Jack’s comment. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling cake.”

…

...

“ _What?_ ”

Ashi's hands instantly came over her lips, eyes wide as she began a muffled apology. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t....I don’t know why I…!” 

The ghost was doing his best not to cackle. It was quite a sight to see his friends acting like a couple of teenagers. And by that, he meant ones who were in the _unconsummated_ stage of innocence. The Scotsman had been very vague at explaining what had happened to the two of them, choosing not to disclose what really transpired between Brent and Ashley. In doing so, he thought it would save both of them the embarrassment. Whether it was the right (or even ethical) choice, the Scotsman could not say. He just hoped Brent’s word about being careful held water. 

“Oh wow. Yer blood sugar must be really low.” The ghost chuckled. “Get movin’ already, find a place to eat.” 

The pair instantly took to the Scotsman’s suggestion as an out from their awkward situation. They repeated their goodbyes once more before finally taking leave.

The ghost lingered on his spot, watching the retreating figures of his two friends. They were making good distance in the sand when something happened. The Scotsman watched as his friend’s hand fell in the space between him and the lass, fingers extended and reaching. And, just like that, the lass followed his action and, soon enough, they were holding hands. 

It was an annoying habit between their brainless selves. 

The ghost waited for the awareness to kick in, expecting a hilarious scene of his friend going into another fluster and then breaking away from the lass only for him to wind up face-first into the sand. 

But that did not happen.

Instead, their hands remained linked together, even when they moved farther away from the Scotsman’s view.

“Well, lookit that.” The ghost grinned, a disbelieving shake of his head. “Maybe Brent and Ashley were on to something after all.” 

Hopefully, with his brain back in place, it wouldn’t take too long for his friend to discover what his heart had already found. 

* * *

The End


	32. Omake

In one of Aku’s cities, the Scotsman floated inside a seedy bar that was packed thick with people. There was music, dancing, and to his ghostly envy, booze.

Normally, he avoided trendy places like this. Even in his physical lifetime, he much rather preferred the cozy taverns and tankards of cheap ale. 

But he was on a lookout for a couple of familiar faces. A scout had reported seeing his old friend and _new_ friend frequenting these parts but did not bother digging into the details. This made the Scotsman snort in annoyance. _Useless rookie. If ye want a job done right…_

Scanning the crowd from the ceiling, his eyes lit up when he spotted the figure of his friend.

“Laddie!” He immediately swooped down to greet him. Jack was appropriately attired to fit the scene. A dark blue pinstripe suit and matching hat. He looked like a real smarmy bastard and the ghost had to laugh. Especially with the way the lad was casually leaning against the counter hipshot, drink in hand—probably an iced tea. 

“Something funny?” was his friend's clipped reply.

“Oh wow!” The Scotsman wheezed, which he did not think was unearthly possible. “Look at ye! Looking all sharp in those slacks! Ye’re really selling it, ye are!”

His friend tipped back his hat, revealing a cold glare from his unamused face. 

“I’m selling nothing. Now, beat it.”

“Hey now!” The Scotsman barked. “That’s a mighty fine greeting for a friend! What’s with this attitude? And where’s the _lassie_?”

Jack only raised an eyebrow as he took an amber sip from his crystal glass. Then, with the shittiest smirk, remarked. 

“ _Lassie_ , huh? If you want a dog, go see your wife.”

The Scotsman had to blink and do a double take. 

“What did ye just say?”

“You heard me.”

The Scotsman’s shock at his friend’s audacity immediately wore off. Now, he felt a boiling anger that whistled out his ears. Balling up his meaty fists, he rose up higher in the air, ready to give out a screaming lecture that could make even Aku wet himself.

But just as he opened his mouth, a woman in a slinky red dress ran up to his friend, throwing herself at him. 

The Scotsman’s jaw dropped.

“ _Lassie?!_ ”

“Jackie, baby.” cooed Ashi, her voice warm and syrupy, as she tugged on his tie. “I saw the prettiest necklace on someone’s neck and simply must have it. Be a doll and…” A sultry laugh. “... _buy_ it for me?” 

Jack curled a finger under her chin, tickling it playfully. “If I do, you’re going to have to pay me back _later_.”

“You rat bastard.” Ashi purred, shamelessly pressing up against him. “I always work hard to pay you back.”

Jack grinned and in a husky babying tone replied. “And I should get a down payment because daddy works hard to make sure his baby girl gets everything.” 

“ _DADDY?!_ ”

The Scotsman’s cry did not affect the couple as they proceeded to make out, shoving their tongues in each other’s throats. Instead of jeering and gawking, the people around them turned away in fearful unison and tried to go about normally despite the indecent display. 

“I’d avert my eyes if I were you.” A waiter coughed to the Scotsman. “When Jackie the Blade and his girl, Annie, get goin’, there’s no stoppin’ the train.”

…

…

“JACKIE _THE WHAT?!_ ”

“Most feared crime boss in the city. He runs the place and Miss Annie runs _him_.” 

…

...

“ _CRIME?!_ ” 

Samurai Jack. The man with the purest heart and drive for justice...involved in _crime_. The Scotsman found himself at a loss as the waiter answered more of the ghost’s unspoken questions. 

“They were found unconscious in a ravine a few weeks back. When they recovered, they just took the city from the old syndicates. It’s been like this ever since.”

The Scotsman glanced over to “Jackie” and “Annie” who were turning themselves into a human pretzel on a barstool.

In defeat, he turned back to the waiter and asked.

“Ye got somewhere ye keep yer spirits?”

“A cellar down below.”

“Appreciate it.” He said somberly, before making a straight descent past the floorboards until he reached the dark storage area that housed the barrels and bottles of liquor. 

He found a gigantic cask of his favorite drink, and phased himself inside of it. And there, in his dark, undrinkable surroundings, bawled out invisible tears.

* * *

The End 

(for real)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist tacking on a little Jackie the Blade lmao.


End file.
